


Athenea Chronicles

by dairesfanficrefuge_archivist



Category: Highlander - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-11-07
Updated: 1998-11-07
Packaged: 2018-12-18 06:41:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11868780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dairesfanficrefuge_archivist/pseuds/dairesfanficrefuge_archivist
Summary: Note from Daire, the archivist: this story was originally archived atDaire's Fanfic Refuge. Deciding to give the stories a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onDaire's Fanfic Refuge's collection profile.





	1. Notes & Acknowledgments for Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Daire, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Daire's Fanfic Refuge](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Daire%27s_Fanfic_Refuge). Deciding to give the stories a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Daire's Fanfic Refuge's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/dairesfanficrefuge/profile).

Athenea Chronicles by K'Immielvr

| 

_Athenea Chronicles  
Notes & Acknowledgments   
for Prologue_

_By K'Immielvr_

**_Notes:_** Don't worry I will be coming back to Carolyn and also expanding on Miss Annabella Lacey and Major Andrew Hounslow later. Jim Byrnes' (who plays Joe) first influence is Jimmy Reed, I decided that Joe's would probably be the same. 

**_Acknowledgements:_** Thanks to my husband and Megan for being wonderful beta-readers and giving me wonderful support. Also thanks to Mang on the Rysher forum for helping me find out who Jim Byrnes' early influence is. 

Prologue 

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	2. Prologue: The Deal

Athenea Chronicles by K'Immielvr

| 

_Athenea Chronicles  
Prologue: The Deal_

_By K'Immielvr_

**_Disclaimer:_** Duncan MacLeod, Methos, Joe and any other Highlander characters are all owned by Davis/Panzer Productions. I'm just borrowing for fun only for a little while. All other characters, apart from actual historical figures, are of my own creation. Also please see notes at the end for clarity and acknowledgements. 

And I **_love feedback_**. 

* * *

_Seacouver, The Present_

Joe's Bar was crowded even for a Friday night. The bartender was busy from one end of the bar to the other, fixing drinks, whilst the waitresses were constantly returning to the bar with new orders. Joe had just started his set on the stage, sitting on his stool, guitar in hand he was going to perform a tribute to Jimmy Reed, the artist that had first influenced him many years ago, and it had attracted a lot of new customers. The bar itself was picking up quite a following as well, lots of guys seemed to be coming here straight from work for a nice cold beer and good food. They were staying as well for the music. Joe had expected a middle aged clientele, but had been surprised to see that later in the evenings the younger crowd stopping by to hear him sing the blues. _Of course,_ Joe thought to himself, _I have some really old people stop for a drink too._

He glanced at one of the tables near the stage where his friends sat; sometimes he had a hard time believing he had Immortals as his closest friends. MacLeod had brought Methos here to try and help lift the old man's spirits. It had been a while since Alexa's, death but Methos was still dwelling on it, now he was sprawled on his chair just staring into his beer. MacLeod had to admit to himself that maybe, just maybe bringing him to a blues bar was not the best choice in the world. Suddenly both Immortals felt that all too familiar sensation run through their heads. Another Immortal had just announced their presence. Simultaneously they both looked towards the door, but the bar was just too crowded to see who might have just entered. Methos looked around nervously, "Errrr, Mac I think it's time I took a breath of fresh air." 

"Yeah, right Methos," Duncan had become used to Methos' disappearing acts when other Immortals showed up, the idea of running was foreign to the Scot, but he supposed that Methos wouldn't have lasted this long by looking for trouble. Methos started to leave, but as he rose out of his seat a hand rested gently on his shoulder. He gulped slightly and then put on a charming smile and began to turn. 

"Hi Methos," whispered a young woman's voice. Methos turned and met the woman's face and then broke into a big genuine smile, MacLeod saw her and smiled politely. 

"Hi, so what are they calling you these days?" grinned the old man as he offered her his own chair. He quickly scanned around the vicinity for another and managed to locate one not far away. She appeared to be in her early twenties, tall and slender with blonde, shoulder length hair, dressed smartly in a dark green turtle neck sweater, jeans and a long black leather overcoat. Her green eyes sparkled mischievously at the sight of two old friends, but some others have commented that those eyes looked like they had seen too much for a twenty-year-old. Methos started to wave a hand to try and grab the attention of a waitress. 

"It's Anna Mitchell." She smiled graciously, "Oh! Hi MacLeod." There was just a trace of animosity in her voice. 

"So what brings you here?" asked Duncan. He was pleasant enough, but Methos couldn't help noticing the slight tension between the two, though neither would elaborate. 

"To see him." Anna nodded up to the stage. Finally a waitress made her way to their table, Anna offered to buy the round; a scotch for MacLeod, Sam Adams for Methos, and a glass of red wine for herself. She shrugged when the waitress asked for some identification and pulled out her driver's license which stated her age was twenty-five. Once the she had left to fetch the drinks, Anna said, "I wish for the thousandth time that I could have died ten years later than I did!" 

MacLeod and Methos just smirked, "Oh it's okay for you two, you're not perennially underage and look it!" The two men carried on smirking; Anna rolled her eyes in exasperation, it was hopeless to try to elicit any sympathy from these two. 

"So why are you meeting with Joe?" inquired MacLeod. Both he and Methos knew of Anna's extreme dislike and mistrust of Watchers. She had been a very good friend of Darius, the monk, who was beheaded by the renegade Watcher, James Horton. But these two Immortals knew it ran a lot deeper than that, but neither knew why. As Adam Pierson, Methos also knew how much the Watchers wanted to keep track of her, but everytime they assigned a field operative to her within a few weeks they requested a transfer. So the Watchers had given up. Methos also knew their records on Anna's- Athenea as she was originally known - background was very sparse, much like his own. 

"We made a deal." Anna explained curtly. Methos was stunned. "I want something the Watchers can provide and the Watchers want to keep tabs on me, I don't like it but I was between a rock and a proverbial hard place. I knew you guys trusted Dawson so I went to him." MacLeod opened his mouth to say something, but Methos reached his leg over and kicked him under the table and shook his head. Methos had known Anna since soon after she became Immortal and also knew that she was a very private person who rarely talked about her past, even to her closest friends, which he considered himself to be amongst. Although Duncan knew her, their friendship was rather more tenuous; and Anna still hadn't forgiven him for judging her too harshly over fifty years ago. Their relationship had never fully recovered. 

Joe was approaching the end of his Jimmy Reed tribute, when their drinks came. After he'd finished his last song, the audience erupted into a loud round of applause. He made his way to the Immortals' table. He nodded to Anna who just looked back at him blandly. "Glad you could make it." Methos managed to grab another spare chair for Joe and he sat down. "So you guys go back a long way?" 

"Yeah, I known her for quite a while, we....Oww!" Methos, who was now sitting closer to Duncan had kicked him again. Methos knew Anna wouldn't want MacLeod telling Joe all about her, well what he knew anyway. That was Anna's business. 

"We go back a ways." Was all Methos would say. Anna glanced at him with a look of gratitude. 

"Look I came here to discuss business Dawson, not to make small talk." 

"Okay, hey, while I'm talking with Athenea," Anna cringed visibly at the use of her true name, even though she had once used it for centuries. "Would one of you guys lend a hand behind the bar. " Methos started grinning like an idiot. "Mac?" The old man looked positively crestfallen. Joe continued "Look Methos, this place is finally starting to turn a profit, I'm not having you drinking it." If it was possible for him to look anymore hurt, he did. Joe then turned to Anna, "If you'd like to follow me to my office we can chat in private." 

Anna shrugged, "Fine, by the way I prefer to be called Anna." Joe agreed, he knew she could be a very difficult person, in fact one of his Watcher colleagues assigned to her a few years back never spoke of her without breaking into a sweat. He had requested a research job after that. As Anna stood up Joe pointed the way into the back office. 

As they left Joe heard Methos calling after him, "But Joe, I can make a killer Mai Tai, and Tom Cruise's got nothing on me. Awwww! C'mon Joe!" 

Anna followed Joe behind the bar and into the back. The office was small and cramped; books and papers were all over the place. The only two chairs, on either side of the desk, were piled high with the year's receipts and invoices. Joe cleared the chairs off and asked Anna to take a seat, which she did. She noted that most of the books lying around were histories of different kinds. The desk by stark contrast to the rest of the room was almost bare with only a few folders and a laptop on it. Joe lent his walking cane on one of the book piles, then sitting he started typing on the computer. 

"Sorry about the mess." He said, "So how are you? Have a good trip up?" 

"Cut the crap, Dawson. I'm not here for small talk." 

"Fine." Anna didn't miss the annoyance in Joe's voice. Meeting the elusive Athenea was a big deal; he'd been looking forward to it since he first got her call the previous week. He turned the laptop to face her. "Here is the information the Watchers have on you, at least we think it's you." There wasn't much, just three entries, the first of which was fairly brief. It was from Tudor England, where a Miss Annabella Lacey was engulfed by a strange lightning storm at a public beheading of a nobleman on an otherwise fine day. 

The next was, in comparison, a relatively detailed entry on Major Andrew Hounslow, recording that after the Duchess of Richmond's ball on the eve of the Napoleonic battle of Quatre Bras this Exploring Officer received a Quickening. The Watcher witnessing this also recorded that he alone knew that Major Hounslow was in fact a woman in disguise. The final entry was the very detailed account of Anna's activities during World War II. "Now, as I said, we're not even sure that these are you, except for the last one. If in fact you are Athenea?" 

Anna was still staring incredulously at the second entry. "Oh I am. You mean Wellington was a Watcher?" 

"Yep, you know that wars seem to attract Immortals and there were plenty fighting for and against Napoleon. The Duke of Wellington was excellent as one of our region chiefs." Joe couldn't help smiling at Anna's surprise. "But are they all you?" 

"Yes, they are." Anna said flatly, "Before I tell you anything though, I want to make sure our deal is perfectly clear. I do not want to be followed around by your people, but I'm willing to talk to a researcher and I'll keep you updated on my activities. That should please your bosses." Joe nodded, "In return, and this is the only reason I came to you, I want the Watchers to keep an eye on Carolyn Barker." 

"She's the pre-immortal?" asked Joe. Anna nodded. She had met Carolyn a few months previously. Carolyn was a young woman who lived just down the road from Anna's current home. As soon as they had met, Anna knew that she was destined to become immortal and they had become good friends. Knowing the time with her present identity was coming to an end, Anna was preparing to move on, but was reluctant to leave Carolyn unprotected. Carolyn had no idea of her latent immortality and Anna didn't want some unknown Immortal coming along and making destiny a reality. She was happily married, with two small children from her husband's former relationship that she treated as her own. Anna did not want that spoiled so she had come to Joe to ask if the Watchers would keep an eye on her. They'd agreed, but at a price, to be willingly recorded, without causing any nervous breakdowns among their operatives. "We've assigned someone and if anything happens, you'll be the first to know." They had discussed most of this over the phone. "Where will you be going?" 

"I was thinking about going to England again, haven't been there for a couple of decades, but I might decide to stay here in Seacouver instead, it seems an alright place." 

"Great!" Anna couldn't decide if Joe's comment was positive or negative. 

"Anyway I've already assigned a researcher for you. He's a nice young man, first assignment, so be nice to him. You can meet him tomorrow, his name's Declan Pearce." Joe looked for a reaction from Anna, but was saw none. She had a real poker face, letting nothing show. "But first though, I need to ask you how did you find out about the Watchers? From MacLeod?" 

Anna broke into a sly smile, "Oh no, I've known about you a lot longer than he has." 

* * *

Chapter 1 

Notes & Acknowledgements 

© 1998   
Please send comments to the author! 

11/07/1998 

The Ancient Greece webgraphics by Moyra's WebJewels 

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	3. Notes & Acknowledgments for Chapter One

Athenea Chronicles by K'Immielvr

| 

_Athenea Chronicles  
Notes & Acknowledgments   
for Chapter One _

**Historical Notes for Kripo Blade**

_By K'Immielvr_

Firstly, I'm sure a young woman like Stadler/Athenea would never have risen to such a rank and position in the Reich. Have you never heard of poetic license? 

The SS or to give it it's full name the Schutz Staffel (Protection Squad) had a jurisdication that covered many areas, from policing, military, and bodyguards, plusmuch more. They were the most evil of the entities under the Third Reich, a creation of Heinrich Himmler. The two SS organizations that I deal with her are the Kripo which were officially the Criminal Police, but I suspect probably dabbled in more than that, so I broadened their brief to include the overseeing of PoW camps. The Gestapo was the Secret Police of the Reich, and much feared even within the SS itself. The relationship between the Kripo and the Gestapo was never close to the point that eventually Artur Nebe, the head of Kripo was arrested by the Gestapo after being implicated in the 20 July, 1944, Bomb Plot against Hitler. 

The SS Honour Ring that is taken from Athenea was a silver death's head signet ring and would have been a personal reward for service, presented from Himmler himself. 

I have set the HQ just outside of Trier, in western Germany, not far from the Benelux area. I don't know if there was such a place, but it was one of the best locations for the purpose of the story, so that Athenea can escape and head through France and hopefully get back to England. 

In dialogue I have used the SS ranks, but in the prose the British versions. 

Some of the disorientation techniques of interrogation are methods in common use even today in some parts of the world. 

Kristallnacht, or the Night of the Broken Glass, was a planned series of acts of violence against Jews throughout Germany on November 10, 1938. Many Jewish shop window were smashed and the glass left lying in the streets, hence the name. 

**_Acknowledgments:_**

Much of this wonderful and helpful information I got from the book SS: Roll of Infamy by Christopher Ailsby. Though the characters of Stadler, Hilgenfeldt and Pieper are purely fictional, I borrowed the names from this book, so I could have authentic German names. 

Information on Kristallnacht came in part from the Jewish Student Online Research Center. 

I gleaned much of the information about the disorientation and lack of guards watches from the book "Bravo Two Zero" by Andy McNab. An excellent book about an actual SAS mission gone wrong during Operation Desert Storm. 

Thanks again to my hubby and Megan for beta-reading for me and again to hubby for helping me with some of the military jargon, etc. 

Chapter One 

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	4. Chapter One: Kripo Blade

Athenea Chronicles by K'Immielvr

| 

_Athenea Chronicles  
Chapter One: Kripo Blade_

_By K'Immielvr_

First, I **_love feedback_** so please feel free to email me. 

**_Disclaimer:_** The the "Highlander" Immortals belong to Davis/Panzer Productions and were created by Greg Widen. All the characters in this section are my own creations, but I did borrow the names from somewhere else, please look in my Notes and Acknowledgments for credit for these and also explanation of SS terms. 

* * *

_Germany, March 1944_

It had been a long drive from Dusseldorf back to the SS headquarters the ancient gated city of Trier for Athenea, or Annika Stadler, as she was currently known. The only baggage she carried was her briefcase; her driver was taking her larger suitcase up to her rooms. She had been away a week at the conference and to oversee some changes of command at two prisoner of war camps. Stadler's main duty was to be the SS liaison between camps in her region; these duties entailed keeping the Kommandants, both Luftwaffe and SS, on their toes. Even as a mere Major the Immortal wielded considerable power. 

Stadler's grey uniform under the long black greatcoat was crumpled from the long journey. Her hair had been pinned up in a bun, but now loose strands of her blonde hair hung down, what little makeup she had been wearing, just a touch of mascara and lipstick had faded away. She felt like going straight to her rooms on the third floor of the huge headquarters to freshen up, but her sense of duty automatically guided her to her office. It wasn't all duty; she had been trying for two days to call her aide, Lieutenant Schmidt, without success and this caused her minor concern. The relentless bombing by both the Americans and British attacking the nearby airbases were regular occurrences over this region and it wouldn't be the first time communications were knocked out, but she still disliked being out of contact with him for any length of time. 

Turning the corner and into the long corridor which housed her office, Stadler saw the armed corporal by the door. She stiffened slightly, nodding to the corporal as she passed by, receiving a smart salute in return. When Stadler looked into the office, she was not met with a pleasant sight. The front office, which belonged to Schmidt, was full of Kripo, or Criminal Police, and Gestapo meticulously sorting through every individual piece of paper. Drawing a deep breath Stadler stepped in. Four sub machine guns menacingly swung around and leveled straight at her. 

A Colonel she had never seen before stepped up to her, accompanied by one of the stormtroopers, his gun aimed directly at her midriff. Stadler looked down at the snub-nosed Schmeisser. And then up into the eyes of the Gestapo Officer, he was a good two or three inches taller than her own five feet nine and of pure Aryan stock, a perfect specimen of Hitler's Master Race. Slowly and cautiously she crossed over to the desk and placed her briefcase down. Without hesitation the nearest guard snatched it up and with a knife forced it open. Sighing, Stadler turned back and faced the man, "Would you mind telling me what this is all about?" 

The officer nodded to the soldier next to him, who started reaching for her sidearm. "Sturmbannfuhrer Stadler, we are placing you under arrest for treason and espionage. Oberststurmfuhrer Schmidt has already been taken to our headquarters and is undergoing interrogation as we speak." 

Stadler was shaken, but only inwardly. From outside appearances she remained completely calm and untroubled. She hadn't lived this long by betraying her emotions so easily. She also knew the meaning of the man's words; Gestapo interrogation techniques did not take long in extracting the required information. It was common knowledge among the SS that by the third day every one breaks. The guard continued to search for concealed weapons, he patted her long, black leather greatcoat and felt something hard. On closer observation he was surprised to find her sword. The Colonel held out his hand as the guard handed him the weapon, "Well now, why would you have such a fine specimen of a sword in your coat?" 

"Safety?" 

The Aryan circled around and stood behind Stadler, so close he was almost, but not quite, touching her. He lifted the finely honed blade and held it against her vulnerable throat, "Winning is the only safety." He whispered, his hot breath brushing across her exposed neck. He pressed the blade hard against her skin; the Immortal felt a trickle of blood. Then the same hot breath, "Tell me you whore, who are you working for?" Stadler readily admitted to herself that she was scared, in fact absolutely terrified. He was pressing her sword harder and harder against her precious neck. Just when she thought she would be unable to take much more, out of her office, marched her commanding officer, General Hilgenfeldt. 

"Release her!" he ordered authoritatively. With reluctance the Gestapo Colonel withdrew the sword. Stadler instinctively put her hand to her throat, pulling the hand away a moment later, she saw it was fortunately not that bloody. Nonetheless, she swore to herself, the wound would probably leave a scar. As with all Immortals, her neck was the only place on her body that could scar. Hilgenfeldt extended his hand; strongly hinting that the man should hand over the sword. "Danke, Standartenfuhrer Pieper" he said pleasantly as the weapon was handed to him. 

A former Heidelberg student, the General had studied fencing and now admired the perfectly balanced and crafted blade of the Excalibur sword. He immediately realized the value of the weapon, not only was it perfect, but it was also an extremely rare specimen. Returning his attention back to Stadler, he ordered her into her own office. Accompanied by a guard she was marched into the adjacent room. Not daring to look around, she stood rigidly to attention. From her line of vision, the office was just as she had left it a week prior. The items on her desk, mainly professional books, including "Mein Kampf," but also some personal literature, Goethe's "Faust" and her favourite, a first edition copy of Voltaire's "Candide" had not been touched. Swiveling her eyes, she could see that none of the wood paneling in the walls had apparently been tampered with. 

General Hilgenfeldt walked in a moment later and passed her by without a glance and sat at her desk, laying the sword down and then casually swinging his legs up to rest on it. He was a young man for a General, in his mid forties. His accession up the commissioned ranks had been rapid and fruitful and during the course of the war he had become a wealthy man. Hilgenfeldt had always got along well with his Major and had trusted her with many of his most difficult and sensitive assignments. Stadler had liked him in return, he could be humourous and easy going, unlike many bureaucratic senior officers she had met. He now knew that this woman's career, indeed her life was over and his too would soon be on the line, given the evidence the Gestapo had presented to him. 

"Do you know what this is about?" his tone was friendly. 

"I'm suspected of being a spy, sir." Stadler's tone was not. 

"What have you got to say in your defence?" 

"All I can think is that it must be a Gestapo plot to discredit our office. My loyalty to the Fuhrer has never wavered." 

Her excuse was plausible, the tensions between Kripo, and the Gestapo weren't improving with Germany's losses of the war. The General sighed, he really had liked the young officer, she had succeeded in her position, despite her youth and gender, "I thought that too, until we found that." He pointed to a table next to the door. Stadler hadn't seen it as the door had blocked it from her sight as she marched in. On the table sat a shortwave radio. Looking at it, Stadler gasped and involuntarily her eyes for a moment fell on the spot in the wall where it had been hidden. The Gestapo had replaced every single panel perfectly. Hilgenfeldt caught the glance and he knew from that moment she was a condemned woman. "Explanation?" 

Regaining her composure, Stadler spoke calmly. "Obviously the Gestapo planted it." 

"I wish that were the truth Sturmbannfuhrer, but we both know otherwise." He swung his legs off the desk and turned to the guard, "Escort the Major down to the cells, but place her away from Schmidt." Hilgenfeldt sounded tired and almost bored. The Immortal relaxed slightly. Unwittingly, the General had allowed her to discover that Schmidt was okay and more importantly they were both to be held here, not by the Gestapo. Gestapo interrogations were a hundred times worse than anything Kripo allowed. Kripo always believed in a relatively quick death for their prisoners. As the guard took her roughly by the arm, Hilgenfeldt indicated wordlessly to halt. He walked up to Stadler and without ceremony stripped her rank insignia and medals from her uniform and forcibly removed her SS Honour Ring. 

* * *

In the dank small cell she sat on a rusty metal framed bad. The musty smell of previous captives still lingered. Stadler estimated that she had been left for only a few hours though it seemed much longer. She knew the SS methods of disorientation before interrogation. There was no way to gauge time, the cell was windowless with only a naked bulb hanging in the middle, which was controlled from outside, the guards were not permitted to wear wristwatches in case a prisoner managed to see it. The periods between "night" and "day" were artificially varied and irregular, as were the meals. This was done to confuse and disorientate the prisoner, to make them more susceptible to questioning. At least Stadler had the advantage of knowing their methods, unlike many of the poor souls that were brought down into these cells. She sat head in her hands, contemplating the future, not so much her own, but Schmidt's. She doubted that she could withstand the impending interrogation and torture, but Schmidt, more than likely would not. Her only worry was how to fake the injuries she knew would be inflicted upon her. If the SS followed their routine interrogation methods - and there was no reason to assume they wouldn't - she fully expected to be beaten to a bloody pulp and then left alone for an indeterminate period. It would take a terrific performance and one that would only stand a chance of succeeding if they left her face alone. Unfortunately for Schmidt, though he didn't have that luxury. 

Oberststurmfuhrer Josef Schmidt, or Lieutenant Joseph Swain, had been Stadler's aide and confidant for three years. She had found that after he arrived, the constant worry about the security of her covert operations for the British Special Operations Executive, or SOE as it was more commonly known, had became a lot less. It was nice to have someone to talk with, someone who was running the same risks as you. Even at her great age that was still important. They had known each other all this time and yet they had remained friends and nothing more. Annika had on more than one occasion regretted that fact. Joseph was a handsome young man, still in his twenties, with a wonderful sense of humour. He wasn't homosexual, which as a Greek was usually Annika's first assumption when her sexual advances were rejected. But there was no way SOE would have assigned him otherwise. Besides, she had seen him go on dates with plenty of the girls in Trier, but he had never responded to her overtures. It was too late for that now. Stadler swung her legs up onto the bed and laid down. There wasn't anything else to do. Within minutes she was asleep. 

It had seemed she had been sleeping for only a few minutes when the heavy iron door crashed open. But for all she knew it could have been hours. A guard stood next to the door Schmeisser aimed at her, then from behind him stepped Colonel Pieper it seemed that she would be handed to the Gestapo after all. He seemed mildly surprised that she had been sleeping and from the way she looked blearily around, deeply too, not knowing that it would take much more than the SS to give an Immortal a restless night. 

"Bring her!" the Colonel ordered. 

* * *

To an casual observer Stadler was the picture of serenity. She had been brought into one of the interrogation rooms and sat on a three-legged stool. But with her hands cuffed behind her back, she was uncomfortable. The only other furniture in the room was a plain table and a chair. Hilgenfeldt sat across from Stadler and at his right shoulder was the Gestapo Colonel, Pieper the only other in the room was a guard who kept his sub machine gun trained on her at all times. Hilgenfeldt started the questioning with the perfunctory name, rank and number. 

"Annika Stadler, Sturmbannfuhrer, 864379" 

"Is that your real name?" 

Stadler managed to supress a smile, "Of course." 

Hilgenfeldt looked down at his papers, "We have been looking for records of your life before the war, since birth, but have found practically nothing." 

"It's in my dossier, all my records were destroyed. You know they were in an office destroyed by the Kristallnacht riots." 

"How convenient." interjected the Colonel. The Colonel stepped up to Stadler and hooked his leather jackbooted foot around on of the legs of the stool. With a sudden jerk he pulled it out from under her. Her slender frame went sprawling onto the concrete floor. 

"You've already met Colonel Pieper, I believe." Stadler nodded curtly, still lying on the floor. Pieper had by now walked over to her, he bent down grabbing her hair, lifted her up. Stadler couldn't help but cry out. Pieper was going to throw her back onto the stool, but stopped as he noticed something. 

"What's this on your neck?" He was talking about a small, but intricate scar on the right side of her neck. Usually her collar covered it, but in the rough handling it had come loose. 

Stadler was extremely sensitive about that scar, it held extremely bad memories for her. She couldn't withhold her insolence, "A birthmark." This earned her a hard punch to the jaw, fortunately it was one that didn't cut the skin. 

"Stop, we do not want her harmed." Hilgenfeldt paused for less than a second, "yet. And then not her face. Once she confesses to us, she will appear before the nation and confess, we don't want her to look like we've beaten it out of her." He grinned evilly. Pieper sat her down on the stool again. Then the questions started. 

"Who do you work for?" 

Silence. 

"British, American, or Russian?" 

Silence. 

"Who is your contact?" Once again she remained silent. Hilgenfeldt nodded to Pieper, who once again kicked the stool from under Stadler. She groaned as she fell awkwardly on her left shoulder, she thought she felt it dislocate. Great!. That wasn't the end. The Colonel then lifted his boot and with full force kicked her in the abdomen. She curled up to protect herself, but with her wrists still handcuffed it was difficult. Pieper then grabbed her hair again and stood her up. Stadler staggered slightly, but resolved not to make a sound. And once again she was sat down and the same questions were asked and she received the same punishment for her silence. This carried on for sometime until Stadler could barely sit, her body was not being allowed any time to heal. 

Time seemed to crawl as the dull throbing in her head coupled with a sharp pain in her shoulder marked the start of the Immortal's healing. Eventually Hilgenfeldt and Pieper left without another word. The guard stayed. Stadler fell off the stool and lay on the floor grateful she now had time to heal. As the sensation of healing passed through her body, she was careful not to let the guard see her recovery. After a while she slowly scooted herself over to the wall and propped herself up, looking decidedly sick. Stadler prepared mentally for the next onslaught that would soon come. This was bad, but she knew that the worse was still to come. If only she could escape. The idea was dismissed almost as soon as it had formed in her mind, Stadler knew the Headquarters inside and out, there was no escape. The place was a fortress. 

More time passed, Stadler had no idea how long, but it must have been hours. Hunger and especially thirst were becoming of great concern. She hadn't eaten in what seemed like days, or at least since before she arrived back at the HQ. It would be ironic to die of thirst after going through all this. It was one of the worst possible deaths for an Immortal, as - unless you found water - it was a recurring death and a very unpleasant one. 

The door started to open, Stadler turned to look as Pieper alone entered carrying a pitcher of water and his briefcase. She didn't move or make any other indication that she saw him. The Colonel placed the pitcher on the desk and the case on the floor. He removed his cap very deliberately and placed it next to the decanter. Then he sat, totally ignoring his prisoner and took some papers out of his case and started working. Stadler tried but failed to keep her eyes from resting on the water. She wanted it desperately. Time passed, it might have been fifteen minutes or an hour or more, she had no idea, she was passing in and out of consciousness. "By the gods, don't let me die." She prayed to herself. Eventually Pieper stopped working and looked up. He strolled casually over to her, still propped up against the wall. He lifted her up, quite gently, Stadler bent over as if her abdomen was still paining her. It was, but through hunger pangs not the brutal kicks. He sat the stool upright and set her on it. All his actions were gentle. Stadler couldn't help tensing up, sensing a quiet before the storm. 

"Now let's go through this again. Who are you working for?" The Colonel spoke as one would speak to a child. Stadler opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She looked up at him with pleading eyes and tried to talk, but only a slight croak came out. Pieper looked down at her and considered for a long moment, then taking his handkerchief from his pocket returned to the desk and the pitcher, soaking the cloth. Smiling to herself, Stadler couldn't help getting some enjoyment from this small triumph over the Gestapo, she was still perfectly capable of talking, but she needed a drink desperately. Instead of handing the cloth to her, Pieper shoved it into her mouth. Gagging, the Immortal managed to suck some of the water out, without drowning herself, then she coughed and the cloth dropped to the floor. But it was enough for now, enough to survive a little longer. "Can you speak now?" 

"Jawohl, Herr Standartenfuhrer" she said defiantly, though a little croakily, as if nothing had been wrong. 

The Colonel smiled thinly, "Well then, who are you working for?" she replied with silence. Pieper sighed, Stadler hadn't noticed the baton that suddenly appeared in the Gestapo officer's hand. "Where the hell did that come from?" she thought. It had been taken from an altered pocket in his uniform. Pieper repeated the question. Again she didn't reply. Even though she was prepared for the blow, the crack across her back was still intensely painful. Somehow she managed to stay on the stool. Pulling her head back by her hair, the Colonel pushed the baton under her chin, choking her. 

"Who. Are. You. Working. For?" No answer. Without warning Pieper hit Stadler with full force in her throat. She couldn't cry out and the force of the blow knocked her off the stool, but he still had her hair wrapped tightly around his fist. Stadler felt some of it ripping out. He let go and she collapsed, gasping onto the floor. He returned to his desk, but not before aiming a well placed kick to her crotch. Again the Immortal gasped in pain. "No matter. We know you're a spy. We know you're working for the British. Why put yourself through this? You know we'll get a confession out of you in the end. Why make it so painful?" Each sentence was spoken in a monotone. Pieper signaled to the guard to release her handcuffs and set her on the stool again. Trying to resist the urge, but failing, she rubbed at her throat and wrists, thinking how soft she'd become. In the old days she would have taken this kind of abuse without a murmur. "Now talk." 

Feeling herself healing again, she shook her head. Losing his patience, Pieper grabbed hold of the Immortal's left arm and twisting it behind her, without warning he smashed the baton down on her arm, slightly below the elbow. Both the Immortal and Colonel heard bones shatter. Stadler couldn't stop from screaming the pain was unbearable. She looked down at her arm, fortunately there were no bones protruding and through the fog of pain she was relieved for that small stroke of fortune. With her arm lying limp at her side, the bones were already knitting together, she glared up at Pieper. "Go fuck yourself." 

A reaction, Pieper regarded this as a success, now, instead of silence, she was at least talking. He was slowly breaking her. "Actually I'd prefer to fuck you." 

Just taking his physical features into account, he was a handsome man, Stadler, stared directly into his blue eyes. "I've had worse offers." she said almost seductively. 

The Gestapo officer was stunned, he hadn't actually interrogated too many females in his career, but those he did, when propositioned like this either started to break right then and there or behave like a terrified animal. This one was different, but he would get to her, he would degrade her so much she would be begging for mercy. He slowly unzipped his pants, and taking out his limp cock, he started to stroke it into life. He moved closer to her, her mouth parallel with his groin. As he started to harden he forced himself into her mouth. She took him and began to gently suck, her tongue began to explore the folds of his member. He was surprised once again at her willingness and started to enjoy the experience. Stadler again looked up at him, straight into his eyes, she could feel him growing larger. Rhythmically, she went back and forth, licking and sucking, desire large in her eyes. She could see Pieper was becoming very aroused. He closed his eyes, drinking in the wonderful sensation, and as he did so, Annika smiled as she dragged her teeth along the shaft to his head and without mercy bit down as hard as she could. Screaming in agony he ripped himself free. Full of anger and pain he saw her and could not believe what he saw next. She had drawn blood from him and a few drops were on her lower lip, seductively with her tongue she licked it off and swallowed it. Before Stadler could fully savour the victory, the guard had rushed over and sent the butt of his gun crashing down on her skull. 

* * *

Back in her cell, Stadler woke suddenly. And almost immediately remembered her "broken" arm. You never knew if they were watching, some cells had spy holes that were undetectable from within and as she had no idea which cell she was in, she couldn't risk being seen as fit and well. Holding the arm to her side she sat on the corner of the bed, wondering how she was going to get through this. She knew she would now pay for her act of defiance, and it wouldn't be pleasant. She wished they'd just shoot her for the traitor she was, so she could slip away and start anew. 

After a while some food was shoved through a small slot at the bottom of the steel door. Without hesitation Stadler went and retrieved it and as soon as she got back to the bed, she started bolting it down and drinking the water that was with the meal. It wasn't a good meal, in fact it was hardly a meal at all, just some watered down gruel and three-day old bread, but it was edible and she was starving. At the end, she started to feel dizzy, "Strange" she thought, even rushing food down like that wouldn't affect an Immortal. But she was definitely feeling ill and dizzy. It was getting worse. Like an idiot she realised the food must have been drugged, she started cursing herself for not being more careful, but lost consciousness before she could finish. 

* * *

Coming out of unconsciousness yet again, Stadler mused to herself that she felt an unpleasant pattern developing here, she tried to move her arms but found they were chained above her head as where her feet likewise restrained at the bottom of the table she was on. The room she was in was large, dark, and cold, she couldn't make out much apart from a man whom she didn't recognize. He was wearing a white lab coat and gloves. This was not a good sign. As soon as the man saw she was cognizant he made a gesture and from behind a large bucket of cold water was thrown over her. She gasped at the shock of it. The man picked up something, Stadler strained to see what it was and then wished she hadn't, they were electric rods. 

Out of the shadows walked Pieper. His gait was rather awkward, still reeling from the agony she had inflicted. He bent down over her. "Now, as I said before we know you're a spy for the British, we know you've been feeding them information for years. So we'll dispense with those questions and start with the important ones." He paused to allow his words to sink in. "Who are your contacts? Names, places?" 

Stadler took a deep breath and said nothing. Pieper nodded to the "doctor". One of the rods was barely placed on her now soaked shirt. She jumped, but the shock wasn't great. Again Pieper repeated the questions, again she said nothing. The next shock was more powerful and shot right through her body. She bit down on her tongue to stop herself from crying out. Breathing hard, she could feel blood welling up in her mouth from biting her tongue. The questions came again, then another shock, even greater than the last. Stadler's body went rigid, convulsing in pain, again she bit down hard on her tongue, blood filled her mouth. Seeing that she was almost to the point of passing out Pieper signaled the "doctor" to stop and ordered the guard who had been standing behind the prisoner to take her back to the cells. 

After her limp body had been carried out Pieper hit the table with full force through frustration, under strict orders not to seriously damage Stadler until the information was extracted. But the woman was tougher than most men that passed through these rooms. He couldn't understand how she could take the pain with barely a sound. 

* * *

The guards unceremoniously threw Stadler onto the cell's floor. As she lay groaning the closest guard lent down and spat on her face. 

Stadler sat up, the burns already healing and leaned against the bed, wiping the blood from her mouth and phlegm from her face. She was exhausted. Though she knew physically she could take the punishment, she was no longer sure if mentally she could. It was unrelenting and they must notice soon that she was showing no visible effects of the torture. Pulling herself up to sit in the corner, she hugged her knees and rested her head on them. She had taken just about enough punishment even immortality had its limits. 

Stadler could see in her mind's eye all the people that would die if she gave the Gestapo the name of just one contact, there were perhaps hundreds. Her contacts and their people were resistance, mainly across the border in France or Belgium, but a few were German who had started to see the Reich's hopeless position and wished for a quick end to the war. Stadler's function had been to pass information to them and to filter information back to England. And once she gave one name, the Gestapo would apply more pressure until they got another, and another, and another. 

Time passed again, a long time. Still crouched in the corner Stadler hadn't moved, she didn't even look up when the guards finally arrived to take her once again. They stood her up and painfully ratched the handcuffs, biting into her wrists. Stadler faked a cry of pain as they manhandled her "broken" arm. As she was marched through seemingly endless corridors, Stadler noted that they were not heading towards the interrogation rooms. "This is it." she thought with relief, "The end of this line." 

Huge gated steel doors were opened and sunlight flooded in, the Immortal tried to shield her eyes from the sudden glare. Up until that moment it could have been midnight for all she knew. The guards pushed her outside, and despite the brightness, it was good to feel the sun again and to smell the fresh air. The doorway led onto a parade square and in the middle of the square several Kripo and Gestapo officers were standing. Once she had been marched up to them, the guards forced her to kneel, "Yes, this was it, bullet through the skull time." 

Pieper was there, so too was Hilgenfeldt, behind them and directly in front of her, was Schmidt, on his knees also. He looked extremely bad, he just hung there in the guard's arms. Realizing someone was looking at him, he raised his head. They had not worried about marking his face, it was a mass of blood and bruises, his left eye was almost closed and Stadler could see he was having trouble breathing through his mouth. His nose was broken and his lips so swollen they hardly parted. But somehow, whether she saw a spark of defiance left in his one good eye, she knew he hadn't been broken. 

Colonel Pieper, drew his pistol and aimed it directly at the Major, the barrel barely two inches from the bridge of her nose. "You will tell us the names of your contacts, or you will die." Looking down into her eyes, he saw no fear, just plain hatred and contempt. This made him angrier, he wanted to see fear, he relished in his victims to fear death and fear of him. This woman did neither. Hilgenfeldt nodded to him and then indicated to Schmidt. Understanding and grinning, the Gestapo officer turned the gun to the Lieutenant, then he saw concern in Stadler's eyes. "Names, Sturmbannfuhrer, or your traitorous comrade will die in your stead." 

Stadler felt a lump form in her throat, this was the worst thing they could do to her. To make her best friend and a mortal die because of things she had done. She looked at Schmidt and he nodded to her, she pleaded with her eyes, but Schmidt looked contented with his fate, he understood that if she broke down and talked now hundreds could die, it was much better that he gave up his life rather than allow that happen. Also, and both of them knew this, that as soon as the SS had the information they would be shot anyway. Despite the pain, Stadler stayed silent. 

Aiming his pistol between Schmidt's eyes, Pieper casually pulled the trigger. 

"NOOOOOO!" Stadler screamed, taking her guard by surprise, she sprang to her feet and lunged at the Colonel, the guard recovered quickly and grabbed her. Schmidt's body fell forward and as it did so his left arm fell upturned in front of him. Stadler looked at him with immense sadness and grief, but she also noticed something she had never seen before, on his upturned wrist was a circular tattoo, a strange marking. In the back of her mind she filed this away, but more immediate was her anger. "You fucking bastards." Pieper aimed the gun at her once more, more for protection than intimidation this time. "Yes, yes, kill me! Go on kill me!" she hissed, "You'll fucking regret it if you don't." 

The guard started dragging her back to her cell and all the time she was screaming "Kill me you cowards!" "Kill me so I can haunt your fucking nightmares." She was thrown back into her cell. She was in a rage full of grief and anger, and she no longer cared to keep up her act. Still handcuffed she kicked the steel cell door. For a moment or two she was quiet as she manipulated the handcuffs, within a few minutes she was free of them. She pounded on the door, she kicked it, she screamed and yelled obscenities. Food and water was slipped under her door again, Stadler picked up the tray and threw it against the door, though she had wanted the water badly. The banging and the bellowing carried on for hours. 

Then suddenly she fell quiet, Stadler had noticed some of the plaster on the ceiling falling down. She glanced up, cracks were forming. Then suddenly, quite near an explosion rocked the soundproofed cell. They were being bombed. More plaster fell, some fairly large pieces, she was just going to head for shelter under the bed when the building took a direct hit and chunks of masonry came crashing down and the steel door was blown off its hinges. Stadler was knocked off her feet at the same time and buried under the door and a few large pieces of concrete. She gasped for breath, but it was useless, the weight was crushing her lungs, slowly she sank into oblivion and death. 

* * *

The all clear had sounded and two guards were detailed to check on the prisoners. When they arrived at Stadler's cell, all they could see was an arm sticking up from the rubble. "She's dead." said the private and was going to move onto the next. 

"Check her, this one's special, they'll want to make sure." replied his sergeant. 

"Jawohl." To get to her the private had to move some of the rubble and with help of his sergeant, the door. It was obvious she was dead, her body was a mangled heap, but orders were orders and he checked for a pulse. He shook his head. "No Scharfuhrer, she is dead." 

Their check here completed the two moved on. 

* * *

Pain shot through Stadler's body as she once again started breathing. Her breaths came at first in gasps. For a while she just lay there as her body started it's healing. She stood up and dusted herself off. Carefully she made her way through the now open doorway. Looking both ways she stepped out into the hall. The place was a mess, rubble and masonry everywhere. A dead soldier was lying on the floor near her cell, checking that both ends of the corridor were clear, she crept over to him and removed his Schmeisser. Checking the clip and switching the safety to off, she made her way slowly out of the cells. It was dark, no electricity down here, though she knew in the upper floors they would have the emergency generators already working. There was no one around, she could hear voices, but they were a long way off. 

Stadler made her way to the stairs, again checking all around she started to ascend. The stone stairs were slick and she nearly fell, looking down she saw it was blood, from the body of another soldier lying at the top. His body took up two steps and Stadler would have had trouble stepping over him, so grabbing his collar, she managed to heave him out of the way and down to the cells. 

As she had thought the lights were on when she got up to the next floor, though dimmer than usual. She dived into a doorway as she heard voices approaching. Holding her breath, two medics passed carrying a stretcher with a body on it. Once again checking , she edged out of the doorway and headed to Hilgenfeldt's office, but that was still one floor away and there were still quite a few staff about, though many were injured and she couldn't risk firing the Schmeisser, the noise would only bring unwanted attention. If only she could get a pistol, preferably with a silencer. Grinning she knew just where to find one, or rather on whom. 

Making her way to the next flight of stairs, Stadler was surprised to see the person she was hunting. Pieper was lying against a wall bleeding badly from his head and his right thigh. She could tell he would not have long to live if he didn't receive medical attention very soon. She pointed the Schmeisser at his face, while she looked for the source of blood in his leg, an artery had been cut and blood loss was heavy. "Give me your pistol", she said. 

Pieper looked up at her, "Help me." Stadler laughed under her breath and shook her head slightly. 

"Just give me your Luger and the silencer and I'll see what I can do." 

"You'll kill me." 

"You're going to die anyway." Pieper reluctantly handed her the gun along with the silencer. Quickly and professionally attaching the silencer, Stadler moved it into her right hand and shouldered the sub machine gun. She now aimed the Luger at the Gestapo officer. "I could just kill you right here and now, but that will be too good for you. I want you to suffer and if I had time, I could really make you suffer, but I don't." 

There was a supply closet nearby, and Stadler managed, with some difficulty, to drag Pieper into it, whilst keeping the gun on him. Once inside, she found a rag and some rope. She hog-tied his legs and arms together tightly and stuffed his mouth with the rag, "I'm going to let you die, but you're going to die slowly and in pain, the medics, if they come, will never know you're in here." Pieper was too weak now to struggle and he would not last much longer. Satisfied, Stadler left and heading up to see her commanding officer. 

Stadler reached the floor she wanted with out any problems, most of the soldiers around were more concerned with their post attack details and the wounded didn't care. She turned the corner where Hilgenfeldt's office was and crept into the anteroom. She heard voices from Hilgenfeldt's office, he was talking to his personal aide. 

"So they're sure she's dead?" 

"Jawohl, Scharfuhrer Hinz reported that they checked for a pulse and there was nothing." 

"Danke." Hilgenfeldt signaled for his aide to leave. "This won't be the end of it." He paused, "She was lucky, if only we'd gotten one name out of her." 

Stadler hid in the shadows, behind the aide's desk as he returned. She cursed when instead of leaving altogether he sat at his desk. She really didn't want to kill him, but he left no choice. Stepping out of her shadow, Stadler leveled the gun and shot the aide in the back, he died without a sound. Not wasting time, she moved to Hilgenfeldt's office. His voice made her freeze on the spot. 

"Braun, come here!" Stadler cursed again, but taking a deep breath strode into the office confidently. Hilgenfeldt gaped. Without breaking stride, Stadler held the pistol level with Hilgenfeldt's head, she didn't even look at him. 

"I wouldn't do that." she said as out of the corner of her eye she saw him reaching for a gun. "I'll blow you away before you get near it. All I've come for is my sword." She sat on the edge of his large and magnificent oak desk. 

"Your sword? But how?" he said despite his nervousness. Hilgenfeldt thought this was a strange request for a supposedly dead prisoner in the middle of SS Headquarters. 'Strange request!' the General laughed nervously to himself, 'the woman' dead!' 

"Yes, my sword. You know, my long, sharp, pointy steel thing. You do still have it I hope? As for how I survived, which I presume was your question. Let's just say it takes more than a few blocks of concrete to get the best of me." For the first time she looked directly at him. Hilgenfeldt noticed her eyes, they were cold and distant. He'd never seen that look before in her. Usually he was struck by the timeless sadness in them, of someone that had seen too much. Well that was nearly every one in this war. But that cold, death look was quite different and unnerving. A bullet whisked past his ear, which startling brought him out of his thoughts. 

"Now if I can have your full attention, my sword." Stadler was losing patience. 

"Yes,......certainly." He moved to his own secret panel in the wall. Stadler had to smile, it was amazing how many German officers had these secret stashes. As Hilgenfeldt was retrieving the sword, Stadler noticed a box on the desk. Opening it, she saw her SS Honour Ring and medals as well as Schmidt's. It wasn't much, but maybe his family would be glad to have something with which to remember him by. 

"Here it is." Stadler indicated to Hilgenfeldt to place the sword on the desk. She picked it up and gave it a thorough visual check, which took a matter of seconds. It seemed untouched. Returning her attention back to Hilgenfeldt, she signaled to him to fetch his great coat. Once he handed it to her she put it on. Stadler changed the pistol to her other hand picked up the sword and placed it inside the coat. 

"Danke, Herr Brigadefuhrer." She said with a small bow, Hilgenfeldt started to bow in return, but never finished, Stadler fired and turned to walk out, she did not even check to see if he was dead, she knew he was. 

Her task now was to make her way back down to the motor pool and steal a vehicle, probably a motorbike. She wanted to make contact with the resistance, but knew that would be extremely unwise. It wouldn't take long for both the Kripo and Gestapo to piece together what had happened and she couldn't run the risk of leading them to the resistance. Stadler looked down at her clothes, her uniform was ruined with sweat and blood, and despite the fine greatcoat, there was no way she would pass as a German officer, she needed to get a change of clothes, but that could wait. A plan of escape was forming in her mind, the best way to get back to England was to head for refuge in a small church in Paris. 

* * *

Prologue 

Notes & Acknowledgements 

© 1998   
Please send comments to the author! 

11/07/1998 

Webgraphics by Moyra 

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	5. Chapter Two: Major Difficulties

Major Difficulties by K'Immielvr

| 

_Athenea Chronicles  
Chapter Two: Major Difficulties_

_By K'Immielvr_

* * *

**_Part 1_**

Disclaimer: Darius, Duncan MacLeod, Connor MacLeod, and Kronos belong to Davis/Panzer Productions. I'm just borrowing them for a while, and Kronos threatened nasty things if I didn't include him. Athenea, on the other hand, belongs to me, and no one else. 

Acknowledgements: Many thanks to Morgana for taking time to beta this for me, and also to my hubby for adding his comments and thoughts as well as his help with motorcycles and airplanes. 

NOTE: This chapter involves the Nazis and their actions and, though fictitious in this instant, some people may find some of this offensive or objectionable. I am just a writer and the actions suited the characters involved, I do not condone such brutality. 

* * *

**__**

Paris March 1944

The motorcycle was abandoned; Annika Stadler had wisely discarded it two kilometers beyond the northernmost outskirts of Paris. As she began walking into the great city, Stadler was beginning to wonder if she would even make it; her exhaustion was becoming severe. Sleep had been very elusive these past few nights, and even when the Immortal had managed to doze off, images of her torture and Schmidt's death invaded her dreams. She always awoke, nearly screaming -- only her need for silence stopping her -- at the vision of her Lieutenant and friend being murdered. In all her years, throughout the centuries, she never had nightmares and it made her extremely uneasy. In fact the dreams had shaken her so badly that Stadler abandoned sleep as she had the BMW. With the lack of sleep and the poor food she managed to forage, she was now struggling to keep her wits about her. It was fortunate that Annika hadn't come across another Immortal during her journey. She wouldn't have the strength, or even the will to lift her sword, let alone fight. 

* * *

Three days previously.... 

The last few days had proven to be remarkably arduous for Stadler; German patrols were everywhere. Although she was almost certain they weren't necessarily searching for her, it felt like every officer and soldier was out to arrest or kill her. After all, most of the residents at the headquarters believed her to be dead. Nonetheless she had taken careful precautions to avoid capture, traveling solely at night and resting by day, staying off major roads, even traversing open fields despite risking becoming bogged down in mud. She was exhausted, totally drained physically and emotionally. With the scarcity of food she had not dared approach any settlement, or set a fire. 

Not long after her escape from the SS headquarters at Trier, the Immortal happened upon a young private struggling to change a tire on the staff car he'd been driving. He was about the same height as her and a slightly bigger build. A private's uniform would be perfect, it was rare that any officer or even non-commissioned officers paid close attention to a lowly private, they were just a part of the background. He was also Wehrmacht - the Army - and not SS, which was a consideration; SS soldiers, no matter of the rank, were always more visible. 

He was crouched down by the offending flat tire, cursing the car, the army, his commanding officer, everyone, and everything else under the sun. Slowly and with praticed stealth, Stadler crept up behind him and gently tapped on his hunched shoulder. The private spun around, his expression not unlike that of a deer caught in headlights, and found himself face to face with the deadly end of her silenced Luger. Wordlessly, she signaled him to cautiously move into the bushes by the roadside. 

"Strip!" she commanded him. At first he looked at her with astonishment, but the Wehrmacht training had conditioned him to obey orders without question. And this woman was obviously an officer, albeit a rather dishelved and dirty one. At his slight hesitation, Stadler ordered him again, "Strip this instant." 

The private slowly started to remove his clothes, nervously regarding the ugly pistol. After what seemed to be an eternity, the soldier stood shivering in his underwear. Annika's eyes traveled slowly up and down his freezing body. The man looked so pathetic that she found it almost funny. Then, without compunction or delay, she smoothly squeezed the trigger. The young soldier fell, already dead, into the frost covered grass. Immediately Stadler began to strip off her own bloodstained clothes. Without hesitating she changed into the private's uniform, it was a little big, but hopefully it would be at least enough to pass any casual inspection. The boots though were much too large, so she decided to keep her own, more comfortable pair. 

Deciding to search the car for any equipment or information that might be useful, Annika cautiously approached the large black Mercedes. She had no intention of stealing it; it was far too big and noticeable for an effective escape. The sleek, olive drab BMW motorbike she had stolen served her purposes splendidly. She rummaged through the private's greatcoat pockets and found the keys. Carefully, keeping both eyes on the road for traffic, she opened the trunk. Nothing. A swift check of the large car's plush interior soon turned up a map and the young private's Schmeisser. Checking the weapon Annika saw that the cartridge was full, but clearly that was all the ammunition the private had. Quickly she removed the clip, shouldered the weapon, and silently slipped back to the Beemer, hidden in the bushes some hundred yards down the road. 

Happy with her ill-gotten gains, she retrieved her bike from the small thicket of bushes where she had deposited it after first spotting the private. It started up first time despite the cold. _Ah the wonders of German engineering,_ she thought sarcastically. The gears clunked into first as she pulled in the clutch lever and off she rode into the night, determined to put as much distance between herself and Trier before sunrise. 

Her plan was to take a less direct route; instead of heading straight to France, which was probably what the Germans, upon their discovery an unaccounted body, would expect her to do. She would ride through Luxembourg and Belgium and then onto Paris. Fortunately the bike, more than likely a courier's, had a full tank of gas when she found it in the motor, plus another five gallon can strapped to the side, enough for almost 400 miles. Plenty to get her to Paris, almost 300 miles away. Even though that was not a great distance, it would take time. 

Annika's plan was to ride at night, no more than six hours at a time, and keep away from any sign of civilization. She would rest up during the day, hiding the bike in a ditch or under brush and rest not more than 50 or so feet away from it, always keeping it in sight. As for food, she was still starving. Fortunately it was still winter, and although the spring equinox was only a week or so away, this part of Europe still got cold and farmers would pile heaps of waste vegetables for their livestock. It was disgusting stuff but edible and would keep her from starving. The date on the bike's logbook of its last service was March 11th. If that was today's date, and she could not be sure, it meant she had been imprisoned for three days. Therefore it was over three days since she had a proper meal as she hadn't eaten since leaving Dusseldorf 

She sped off into the night and onto her stop, somewhere near Charleroi. Stadler almost chuckled with amusement; she would be sleeping near the town that Napoleon's army had first been sighted nearly 130 years ago. She had been part of the Army that had tried to stop him at Quatre Bras and finally did stop the Emperor at Waterloo. She couldn't help reflecting how much and how little things change. 

* * *

Despite the war Annika was glad to be back in Paris. Its familiarity was comforting. There had been many changes, of course, in the past two decades since she last visited the City of Lights. But most of these were superficial and many were due to the war. The usual _joie de vive_ of the city had been replaced by a strange quietness. Even the constantly busy Champs Elysees was relatively still, with only a few horse-pulled wagons. The only motorized vehicles on the road belonged to the occupying force. 

Stadler turned a corner and with relief spotted the small church of St. Julien de Pauvre across the street. A German patrol drove between the alley she was standing in and the church. It stopped and showed no sign of moving off in the immediate future, the officer and the driver lit up cigarettes and seemed to be chatting casually. Annika knew she should just wait them out, they would eventually move off. But at the same time, she was desperate to reach safety and the friendship of the church's Immortal priest. She was in great need of his kind words and wisdom right now. Stadler hadn't even consciously decided to come to the church, but automatically knew it was the place to go, as she had done during the times she had difficulties in dealing with life. 

She and Darius had met roughly three hundred years ago. She had been foolish enough to die and rise from the dead in front of some peasants, who immediately condemned her to death for witchcraft. As she waited, imprisoned, whilst they built a stake to burn her on, a priest had stopped by to give absolution to the demon. The priest was Darius, and he convinced the peasants to release her, and that the church would purge her of the devil inside. That point marked the start of their friendship and their pleasant, but often long theological debates. Athenea had long since given up belief in any deity. Older by about half a millenium than Darius, she once believed in the pagan gods, when they died, but she still lived, her belief died too. Apart from theology, she and Darius often enjoyed discussing herbs and their medicinal properties. Very early in her life, Athenea had been a healer and her knowledge on herbs was extensive, though sometimes out of date. Moreover she felt able to talk to Darius about anything. A naturally private person, many events in her life remained buried deep inside her. Only with Darius had she confided some of the horrors that had on more than one occasion plagued her life. 

With an air of supreme confidence, Stadler stepped from the shadows of the alleyway and casually walked passed the patrol, heading for the church. As she drew level with the German all-purpose vehicle, the Lieutenant saw her. 

"Schutze, come here!" She stopped and walked over. "You are a disgrace to your uniform and to the Wehrmacht." 

"Jawohl, Herr Obersturmfuhrer," she replied, keeping her eyes lowered, assuming the standard stance of a lowly private in any army when questioned by an officer. The bowed head and slightly hunched shoulders helped disguise the fact that she was female, though it probably wouldn't for very long. "I have just returned form a patrol north of Paris, and haven't had time to change, sir. Sorry sir!" 

The Lieutenant considered this for a moment. "Hmmmm, papers please, Schutze." 

Annika paused for a heartbeat, this is what she had expressly hoped wouldn't happen. Slowly she handed over the dead Private's identity papers simultaneously reaching her other hand slyly into the coat for the hidden Schmeisser. Edging cautiously away from the vehicle and the Germans, Stadler started to head for the church, eyes never leaving the officer. As soon as the spy noticed the look of puzzlement and confusion pass over the Lieutenant's features she turned and made a break for St Julien. A shout of alarm rang out. Stadler turned and sprayed an arc of bullets with the submachine gun. Almost immediately she downed the corporal, but not before he had returned a couple of rounds. One bullet struck her in the thigh; grunting she retreated further towards the sanctuary. 

During this time, the Lieutenant, a rather portly man, was just starting to react, and reach for his pistol. Annika took advantage of his delay to run, or rather limp, to safety. The Lieutenant must have finally removed his sidearm, for in the next second a bullet ripped through the Immortal's shoulder. She fell, turning and firing as she did so. This time she hit the officer in his guts and he collapsed, shrieking in agony. Noticing more troops beginning to turn the corner, Stadler struggled to her feet, and as she did so she felt the presence of another Immortal. She looked towards the church doors and saw with relief the peaceable monk urgently beckoning her inside. With some difficulty she rose to her feet and half-running, half-limping stumbled into Darius' arms. The other patrol was cautiously approaching the bullet-riddled vehicle. 

Darius supported his friend to the nearest pew and sat her down. She stared up into those timeless, sad grey eyes of his and smiled at his warm comforting smile. His presence made her feel safe, even though she knew the danger wasn't yet over. 

The priest noticed her leg wound was already healing, though the more serious shoulder wound would take longer. "Come Athenea, we must get you hidden in the crypt before they get in here." Annika nodded, and followed Darius underneath the church. He pointed to a dark alcove, only just big enough to fit a person. With some difficulty and her healing shoulder still paining her, Stadler climbed into the small confined space. 

As Darius left her she drew the Luger and screwed on the silencer. Despite the fact she was on Holy Ground, and she wouldn't be able to kill these mortals the weapon may become useful in a bluff. 

Waiting down in the musty, dank, ancient crypt Annika could hear the second German patrol march into the simply decorated church. For the first few moments she heard nothing, then she could just make out the German officer's voice, raised and becoming angry. It was difficult to ascertain what he was saying, and she couldn't hear Darius' soft voice at all. No matter what the officer was saying, it was obvious he was getting increasingly incensed with the priest. She could just imagine Darius standing there, being questioned by the German, and retaining his calm, serene composure. It was clear that the officer was receiving no assistance from Darius. Then, without warning, a shot rang out. Stadler jumped; she took a firmer grasp on her own pistol preparing for the worst. 

She could hear the officer bark an order at another soldier and within a few seconds the door to the crypt was opened. The soldier made his way gingerly down the steps; the room was dark, and with the flashlight the soldier carried shadows were cast all over the place. Pushing herself right against the wall of the alcove, Stadler shifted, attempting to hide in the shadows even further. The soldier advanced, turning the flashlight towards her. She immediately turned her head so that the light wouldn't illuminate her face. After a few minutes the solider was satisfied that no one was here. Once he left, Stadler let out a big sigh of relief. 

A few more minutes passed until she heard the patrol leaving. Then, with great care, she stepped down from the alcove and slowly made her way up to the church. Annika opened the door slowly, and letting her pistol show itself first, she peered out. The Germans had gone, leaving Darius lying in front of his altar, face down. Stadler immediately ran to him, turning him over. He had been shot straight through the heart. "Bastards," she exclaimed as loud as she dared in the direction of the door. She held Darius in her arms until he returned to life. 

She smiled weakly at him. "I'm sorry." 

Darius sat up. "Athenea, don't be. You needed help, I wouldn't just turn you over to them." 

Stadler smiled and helped the monk to his feet. "Anyway, thank you. If they had got a hold of me it wouldn't have been pretty." 

"Why do you always insist on danger?" 

Annika grinned; this was an old conversation. "Hard to break a habit of a lifetime." 

"Well, what kind of trouble are you in?" Darius indicated that they should go into his rooms. 

"I'm probably only on the Nazi's most wanted list. I don't think they were too pleased to find out that a trusted SS Officer was in fact a British spy." She paused for a moment, reflecting that she should not be telling Darius this, but he was her friend and greatest confidant. It was natural to talk. "Darius, I need help getting back to England." 

"I have some contacts in the resistance. You might know a couple of them." The priest smiled. "But first you should eat and rest...it looks like you haven't had either in quite a while.' 

Annika nodded. "Probably nearly a week since I had anything proper." 

The food had been good, though simple. The fare at St. Julien was never large, and with the war was even simpler. The room was just how Annika remembered it. Plain and simple like the rest of the church. The small wooden bed was in one corner with the oak table nearby. Annika shrugged off her greatcoat and rested her sword against the smaller table near the window where the chess set sat. Darius went to a small cupboard fixed to the wall next to the window and offered her some mead, a fact that pleased Annika immensely. She didn't think she could have stomached any of his mold tea. During the meal she proceeded to tell as much as she could about her escape and the events that led to it. 

There were some things that she couldn't tell the priest; she was afraid he wouldn't understand, but she did tell him about her arrest and subsequent torture and escape. Darius listened to the tale without interruption. When she had finished he said. "My poor Athenea. Why do you let yourself be put into these situations?" 

"It's just who I am." replied Annika with a shrug. "You know that. But it's too late to reflect on why...I need to get back to London." 

Darius stood up. "Make yourself comfortable, I'll go and speak with some people and they'll help you." 

Smiling assent, Annika took a sip of the mead. It was good and sweet. A few minutes after Darius had left, the food and warmth of the alcohol worked it's magic on her. She laid her head on the table and she was soon asleep. 

Her slumber wasn't disturbed by dreams this time, but she was abruptly awoken by the approach of Immortals. She raised her head slowly; still filled with sleep since she was only expecting the monk's return. But then she saw the man standing behind him. She stiffened, of all the people that could help her; it had to be him. The last time she had met Duncan MacLeod it hadn't been on the best of terms. 

* * *

**_Part 2_**

**_Germany, Spring 1943_**

The hounds were baying, smelling and still wanting blood. The soldiers held them back from the heap lying on the ground. The hunting dogs' opportunity was now over, called off after they had torn their prey to shreds. The quarry was still alive, but only just. 

The two SS officers sat astride their mounts, watching the prey impassively. Annika, on a fine bay, appeared calm, though inside she felt far from relaxed. She was sickened by the sight, but she couldn't allow her fellow officer to see that. When the Captain had suggested a hunt, she foolishly assumed they would be hunting foxes or deer; she should have known better. She stared down at the broken and shattered body of the prisoner. She masked her emotions well; her fellow officer would not approve of her squeamishness. 

Captain Josef Kramer was the Camp Commandant of the nearby concentration camp. He glared intently at Stadler as if trying to dare her to make a comment. She could feel his hard green eyes boring into her. Returning his gaze, she couldn't help but once again notice his handsome features. He was not a large man, but his confidence and single-minded determination more than made up for his lack of physical size. His eyes were those of a killer, they shone brightly with deadly mischief. He was enjoying himself immensely. His mouth was crinkled into a daring smile, one that could change to killer cold in less than a second. Some people may dare to comment that the large scar that ran down one side of his face, from forehead to cheekbone detracted from his good looks. Stadler couldn't agree, the scar only added to his features. Indeed he would not be the End of Time without it. 

Turning their attention back to the victim, who was barely alive, Stadler commented. "Not much of a challenge, a half starved convict." 

Throughout her long life, she had witnessed scenes similar to this. The powerful always abused the weak; people never changed only the methods. And there was Kronos ready to step in and more than willingly help the Nazis eradicate the undesirables of their society. It was sickening, but she could not allow Kronos to know that. 

Kronos dismounted his grey stallion, and Annika followed suit. Handing the reins to a nearby private, they stood over the dying man, who had committed no crime only that he was born into the wrong religion. 

"I know, but it's getting harder to find healthy ones," smiled Kronos. He nodded to Stadler and then to the prisoner. She knew what he wanted. Even though she was technically the ranking officer, a Major to his Captain, she was still and would always be under the Horseman's command. He was impossible to resist, and it was unwise to. Stadler had no desire to lose her head. Drawing her Luger from its holster, betraying no emotion she shot the man through his skull, as one might shoot a horse with a broken leg. That was how she could justify this murder to herself, a mercy killing. She turned away from the wretched body and Kronos, not allowing him to see the disgusted look on her face. How had she allowed herself to become a party to this murder? But she knew she had no choice, she was an SS officer and a member of the Nazi party, it was her duty. And Kronos had ordered her to. 

As she turned away a motorbike pulled up nearby. The young soldier dismounted and strode up to the two officers. Saluting, he said, "Sturmbannfuhrer Stadler, a patrol has located and arrested a suspected resistance cell." 

"Where?" 

"About five kilometers west. Shall we take them to HQ for interrogation?" 

Stadler considered for a moment, this could prove to be awkward. Some of the resistance cells that she maintained contact with operated in this area. To transport them back to headquarters and torture could devastate the intelligence network she had built up. "No, let me see them first. Go get my car, Rottenfuhrer," she ordered. 

She turned to Kronos. "I'm sorry to cut our ride short." 

"We'll just have to do it again another time," he replied. Stadler knew exactly what he really meant. She suppressed a shudder. 

"But of course, Hauptsturmfuhrer." She emphasized the last word, reminding him who was technically in command. She tried to make her voice sound light. 

Kronos grabbed her arm, "Come with me Athenea!" He led her into the thick and secluded wooded area nearby. Once out of sight of the soldiers he stopped. Annika stood still, heart pounding. Kronos stood so close he was almost touching her. For a moment he stood taking in her features, she was his. She always had been. Slowly he reached a hand up to her neck; his fingers immediately touched her scar. Annika tensed and closed her eyes, anticipating what was to come. Following the contours of her neck, Kronos gently moved his hand to her nape. He felt her tense again, he looked at her face, and an amused smile crossed his face. Without warning he pulled her mouth to his. Annika, caught off balance threw a hand out to catch herself and grabbed the Horseman's jacket, she didn't struggle. As he tasted her sweet lips, he slowly forced open her mouth. His tongue explored the warm, moist corners of her mouth, and soon he began to feel her respond to him. Their kiss became more passionate, Kronos enjoyed her hunger for him and he wanted her. His free hand slowly made its way down to her jacket and to the silver death's head buttons. 

"Sturmbannfuhrer!" A distant voice called out, shattering the moment. Annika immediately forced herself away from her Kronos. She wiped her mouth on her sleeve, trying to erase his kisses. 

"Don't tell me you didn't enjoy that," taunted the Horseman. 

"Enjoy? Enjoy what?" asked Stadler straightening her cap. 

"Us. How long has it been since you've had someone like me?" 

"Not long enough," responded Stadler defensively. The next moment Annika was picking herself off the ground. Kronos had hit her with full force with the back of his hand. 

"You do not speak to me like that." 

A trickle of blood started to run down her chin. She glared defiantly at him, risking another blow. When she saw none was coming, she wiped her chin clean of the blood and picked up her hat, which was knocked off by the punch. 

Kronos smiled, amused at her chagrin. "Go and do your duty, " he said indicating to the waiting soldiers on the edge of the wood. 

Mustering some dignity, she placed the hat back on her head. Stadler took a final look at one of the most cruel and feared men in all history. She didn't dare analyze her feelings for him; they were a mixture of hate, fear, and lust, perhaps even love. Only that was too loathsome to consider. 

After a short drive, Stadler arrived at the clearing in the wood where the patrol had apprehended the suspected resistance cell. Stadler stopped the car and walked towards the clearing. As she approached she felt the sensation of another Immortal flow through and around her. She glanced behind, wondering if Kronos had followed her. No, nothing. She carried on, more cautious now, to the clearing. As soon as she entered, she saw the cause of the feeling. 

The ten prisoners were huddled together, surrounded by almost as many guards. All of which were armed with Schmeissers, aimed at them. In the middle of the group, standing almost a head above the rest was Duncan MacLeod. Stadler sighed and shook her head; this is just what she didn't need. Her job was hard enough without the morals and honour code of the Highlander interfering. Ignoring him, she walked over to the Lieutenant in command of the patrol. 

"Tell me about them," she ordered. 

"Well Sturmbannfuhrer, we found them hiding out in the woods, possibly waiting for some sort of attack at nightfall. We also found these." The junior officer indicated to several backpacks on the ground. Stadler crouched down and looked inside one of the bags. She closed her eyes when she saw all the explosives and detonators in there. Standing up again she ordered the guards to form the prisoners in a line. She drew her sidearm and aimed it at the only female in the group. MacLeod, at the other end of the line looked on in horror. 

"You can't do that!" he yelled. Stadler just nodded at the nearest guard to MacLeod and he drove the butt of his weapon into the Scotsman's guts. He doubled over in pain. The guard forced him upright again. 

"You are in no position to tell me anything!" Stadler returned her focus to the woman. "What is your name?" 

The woman, not much more than a girl in fact, licked her lips nervously. "Bridgette Maillon." 

_French?_ thought Stadler, _Why are the French here?_ "So Bridgette, why are you in Germany?" 

The girl seemed about to reply when she saw a warning sign from the man next to her. Stadler caught the look as well. "Never mind him Bridgette, why are you here? Why don't you fight the Nazis that are in your own country?" 

Bridgette, encouraged by her fellow comrade at her side, now stood resolutely silent. Annika shook her head, "Now Bridgette, I can really make this hard on you and your friends. It will save me a lot of time and you a lot of pain if you just tell me." 

The man at her side again shot her a look that silently told her to keep quiet. Again Stadler saw it. Calmly she raised her gun level with the man's forehead and squeezed the trigger. "Now without any further interruptions, Bridgette?" she said as the man fell dead to the ground. 

The girl was looking down in horror at the dead man. Stadler kindly put her arm around Bridgette and walked away from the line, "Bridgette, I know you're scared, of me, of the guards and even perhaps your own people. But you are a young girl, with your life ahead of you. Don't waste it. Why are you here? What were you going to blow up with those explosives?" 

"I don't know, this is the first time I've done anything like this. My father allowed me to come along with him." Annika caught the crack in her voice. _She's not as naïve as I thought_. As a test, even though she had a good idea what the answer would be, she asked, "And which one's your father?" 

The girl seemed nearly on the edge of tears, she choked them back. "You just killed him!" 

_How convenient,_ thought Annika. She sighed, there was no way that she could take these enemies of the Reich in for interrogation; they may or may not have contacted her own resistance groups. She couldn't run that risk of jeopardizing them or herself. Obviously she couldn't let them go. The only choice to stop this possible compromise was to kill them all here. It was not something she relished. Of course the presence of MacLeod didn't help matters; he would see it as murder, pure and simple. _Damn MacLeod, of all the Immortals it could be, it had to be him,_ she cursed to herself. Directing Bridgette back to the line up, Annika went over to the Lieutenant again. 

"Obersturmfuhrer, do we have a truck to transport the prisoners in?" Stadler was sure they hadn't, there were none present on her arrival. 

"Nein, Sturmbannfuhrer! We radioed for one, but apparently it has broken down," he whispered, not wanting those at gunpoint to hear that infallible German engineering could fail. "We expect it in about five hours." 

Annika smiled to herself, what an opportunity. "Tell me Obersturmfuhrer, do you fancy staying out here until after dark, interrogating these criminals, when we could all be back in our rooms or barracks well fed and happy?" 

The junior SS officer didn't know what to say. "But the information?" 

"They are not going to talk. Not without a lot of pressure that we cannot bring to bear out here. I for one want to go home. They are spies and saboteurs; they deserve the fate given to such." 

The Lieutenant nodded his consent. He barked out an order for the guards to form up into a firing squad. They prepared their weapons. 

"A last request! Please?" MacLeod spoke out. The Lieutenant looked across to Stadler questioningly. She nodded. "Can I talk to the Major, alone?" 

Stadler nodded her assent. MacLeod was allowed to leave the group and join the Major; there was a gun trained on him all the time. "Yes MacLeod?" Annika asked with a tired sigh. 

"You can't just murder these people in cold blood!" 

"It's not cold blood. It's war!" There was no way that Annika could tell Duncan that she was a British spy like himself. That was a strict need to know item and he did not need to know. Yes it was murder, but she was protecting her people and that was her main concern. 

"You never used to be like this!" he pleaded. 

Stadler considered this for a moment; an image of Kronos came into her head. "Maybe, maybe not. You don't know everything about me MacLeod. Anyway, war changes people, even our kind." 

"I'll never forgive you for this." 

Shrugging, Annika indicated to his place in the line. The conversation was over. Once MacLeod had rejoined his comrades she signaled to the other officer that he should begin. Within a few brief moments all of the remaining nine prisoners were dead. 

* * *

**_Part 3_**

**__**

Paris, March 1944

MacLeod was dressed in a smart business suit, the fine cut of the jacket bragged of it's expense. Stadler also noticed that his shirt was made from finely woven silk. Someone was doing well out of the war. She looked down at her own clothes, the ones she had stolen from the dead private. They were stained with mud and blood, rags compared to MacLeod's finery. 

The Highlander turned to Darius. "Why didn't you tell me it was her?" His disgust was evident. 

"Because I know you Duncan. Just let her speak." 

"Why should I? She's a Nazi, Darius. She murdered nine innocent people." 

During this exchange, Annika felt her rage building. MacLeod didn't and would never understand her reasons for killing his comrades. He saw the world in black and white only. He would never see that sometimes a person has to make difficult decisions and has to live with the consequences. Her eyes blazed at him; all the pain, fear and hatred of the past week slowly boiled to the surface. 

"He'll never understand Darius. He'll never understand that by killing those innocent people, I maybe saved a hundred others. He'll never see that for the past five years, I have perhaps helped French and German resistance more than anyone will ever know." Stadler stood up and walked over to MacLeod, just barely containing her anger. 

"You're a spy?" asked MacLeod incredulously. "The needs of the many outweigh that of the few?" he laughed in disbelief. 

That did it. What little control she had managed to retain on her temper was lost. She flew at him, arm raised. Her attack was so swift, that Duncan was knocked off balance and Annika caught him under his chin, her momentum pushed them both against the wall. On the course to the wall the pair sent Darius' chess set flying. Darius himself, startled at the outbreak, soon recovered and rushed over to them. 

"Stop it! This is not only Holy Ground, but **_my_** church. I will not have two of my closest friends fighting in my presence." 

But Stadler's rage was so great she was beyond hearing. "I have always done my duty, and that duty was, and is, to the British Government. I had to make hard decisions, and yes people, innocent people, died because of them. But I had no choice. Three days ago, a fine, good young man was tortured, beaten to a pulp and executed before my eyes for the Greater Good. Don't you moralize at me MacLeod...you have no idea!" In a need to vent still more, Annika drew back her knee, and with an age-old swiftness she forced her it with all her strength into his groin. The Scot doubled over in agony. 

Annika was just gloating to herself over his pain, when MacLeod reached out a hand and caught and pulled her leg from under her. Stadler went flying, her head banged onto the flagstone floor. She was dazed, but still conscious. She struggled to stand up. MacLeod's hands were still cupped over his crotch. 

Once on her feet Stadler, watching the pained Immortal, reached for her sword. It had been knocked from against the chess table and fallen to the floor. She leveled the blade at MacLeod's neck. 

"Athenea!" Darius' normally quiet voice shattered the chaos. He had continued to watch the brief fight with horror. Stadler halted in her tracks, sword still aimed at MacLeod's throat. She knew she couldn't take his head, but the temptation was so great. She breathed heavily, her chest heaving, trying to bring her emotions under control. 

MacLeod simply looked up at her, amazed that she would even dare assault him on Holy Ground. 

Annika nodded to Darius, and slowly lowered her sword. But the fight wasn't forgotten. "We can take this outside Highlander." 

Seeing that his friends were likely to flare up in another battle out of his control, Darius stepped between them. "Look calm down. Duncan, everybody has done something they regret, even you. Athenea, you've just been through a really very trying time, calm down. Think." 

Looking into the priest's sad, grey eyes the Immortal found herself relaxing. She threw her sword to one side. The pain though, was still evident in her eyes. 

"Go Duncan, your presence will not improve matters." 

The big Scot finally managed to stand up straight. He glared at Annika, and for a moment it looked as if he might attack her. He started to address Darius, but knowing that his protestations would fall on deaf ears, turned and slowly limped out of the rectory and the church. 

"I'm sorry Darius." Annika didn't know what to say. She felt terrible; she had come so close to taking a head on Holy Ground. Not just any holy ground either, Darius' church. How could she have even contemplated such a violation of their greatest rule? She sat down on the nearest chair, a defeated and humiliated woman. 

Darius walked up and knelt by her. "It's okay, you are exhausted, you have lived with more pain these last few days than you have perhaps in decades, centuries even. Don't be so hard on yourself. Yes, you shouldn't have reacted the way you did, but it's over now." He put a gentle hand on her shoulder. 

Annika Stadler couldn't remember the last time she shed tears, if she had ever done so it was truly a long, long time ago. But here with the warmth of the monk, and her own weariness, she felt closer to crying than ever. Still, no tears came. 

Stadler was about to say something when both her and the monk again felt the presence of an approaching Immortal. At first Annika assumed it was MacLeod returning. But a few seconds later a stranger appeared in the doorway. He was clothed casually. The cut of his clothes, though good, did not ring of the expense that MacLeod's had. He was handsome; his eyes were the most striking features on his face. 

"Connor! Welcome, come on in." It was obvious Darius knew the man. 

Connor and Annika eyed each other suspiciously. She thought she caught a glint of irony in his striking hazel eyes. "Hello," he said, introducing himself. "I am Connor MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod." 

Hanging her head, running her hand through her hair, Annika took a deep sigh. "Not another one!" 

Connor laughed, although it seemed more a chuckle. "Heh! Heh! You're referring to my kinsman? I saw him as I came in. Are you the reason for his... umm...discomfort?" Connor's eyes sparkled mischievously. 

"I suppose you've come to fight me now?" 

"Not at all, Darius asked me to bring a change of clothes for you. As for Duncan," Connor grinned. "He may sound better an octave higher." 

Annika couldn't help but return the grin. This MacLeod was a vast improvement on the other one. 

"Look, whatever you've done, I'm sure Duncan overreacted, he does that sometimes. I'm sure Darius would not have helped without good cause, and that's good enough for me." 

Annika nodded. "Thank you. To change the subject, I need to ask about transport out." 

"Weather permitting, and it looks good, a plane will be landing tonight. We'll get you out." Connor paused and studied Annika closely. "You must be important, for them to be able to arrange a plane so quickly." Stadler shrugged. 

"Let's leave her be so she can change into the fresh clothes," interrupted Darius. He was relieved that these two seemed to get along. "Change here Athenea, we'll wait outside." The two men turned to leave MacLeod somewhat reluctantly. Stadler started to remove the private's uniform, glad to take it off after three long days of wearing it. Darius had left her a pitcher of warm water and a bowl to bathe in. Stripped to her underwear she dipped the washcloth into the water and cleansed her face and neck. There was a small mirror next to the wash bowl and she caught a reflection in it. She smiled to herself, Connor was watching from the doorway, which was slightly ajar. She could see he was highly appreciative of the view. Acting as if she hadn't noticed him, Stadler continued to bathe, removing the rest of her garments. She turned to reach for the clean clothes the older MacLeod had brought, and noted with amusement, Connor darting back into the church. Within a few minutes she was dressed in a simple blouse and skirt, fashionable, but still understated so as not to attract unwanted attention. 

After Annika finished dressing she gave the all clear for the other two Immortals to enter. They came in and all three of them sat down to discuss her escape route. The plane would hopefully land at a predetermined site at one o'clock in the morning. Stadler wouldn't know the location, MacLeod would take her. The resistance carefully guarded the strips of flat fields they used as airstrips for Allied planes to land. Immediately after the plane lands, she would embark and fly to England. There would be no waste of time. The Germans were alerted to by the trouble she had caused outside the church. They would be looking for clandestine flights. If all went well she would be back on green and pleasant land by dawn. 

As the two men talked into the evening, Stadler found herself becoming drowsy. The lack of sleep was taking its toll. She was sitting on the edge of Darius' bed. After a few more minutes she had lain down and fallen fast asleep. 

Connor stood up to wake her, but Darius stopped him. "No, leave her. She needs the sleep. I think she'll need to be awake and alert when she arrives in London." 

"You think she's going to be in danger over there?" It didn't make sense. Once in England she would be debriefed and her five-year covert ordeal would be over.  


"I've known Athenea a long time. She attracts danger, and is attracted to it. I just have a feeling, nothing more. Take care of her Connor." Connor nodded his assent. He looked at the woman; lying there asleep she seemed no more than a girl, though he knew she was older than himself. He sat watching her, it was clear her sleep was fitful. She was starting to toss and turn, her dreams haunting her. MacLeod wanted to know what thoughts were flying through her head. She intrigued him. Other female Immortals he had met had survived using their wits and charm, like Duncan's on and off girlfriend, Amanda. Stadler seemed different, although she must have the wits to outfox an opponent, she was also a fighter. As was obvious by his clansman's earlier discomfort, that took guts. Duncan was much larger than she was. 

Annika continued to toss in her sleep, reliving her torture slowly, the way dreams do. Both priest and Highlander watched her with empathy, unable to do anything to sooth her apparent distress. She became still, though her breathing was still heavy and tight. This lasted just a few seconds. 

Breaking the stillness of Darius' room she screamed. "James! No!" and brought herself awake. She sat still, recollecting her thoughts, remembering where she was. Connor came to her side and took her in his arms. Stadler's first instinct was to push him away; she didn't need any man to look after her. But he was a MacLeod and she gradually realized that he must share the same code of honour and chivalry Duncan did. She relaxed and enjoyed the experience, besides he was rather nice, and it had been quite a while since she'd had close physical contact with the opposite sex. 

"You have to get through these feelings of guilt," said Darius. "You couldn't have stopped your friend's death." 

"I know, but try telling my subconscious that," smiled Annika weakly as she leaned against Connor's chest. 

* * *

It was several hours later when the ancient truck carrying MacLeod and Stadler pulled up at the large field. They alighted and the driver pulled away quickly, driving straight back to the city. Connor gently put his arm around Annika as they walked through a small opening in the bushes surrounding the field. There was a dozen or more resistance fighters standing around casually. Stadler knew that they would be alert in an instant if the situation warranted. Not one person was smoking, even though most were probably chain smokers. 

Once inside the field perimeter, the two Immortals stood by the shelter of the bushes waiting anxiously for the familiar rumble of an aircraft's engine. Connor held her closer, she didn't know whether it was for protection or for warmth. The night was clear and the moon, just a sliver in the sky, was shimmering peacefully. There would be a heavy frost tonight. 

Annika didn't pull away. She was more than capable of looking after herself, but if MacLeod wanted to play the gallant hero for now, that was fine. Anyway it felt good to be in the arms of a man again, especially one as handsome as this Highlander. 

The minutes gradually ticked by: ten, fifteen, then thirty. There was still no sound from the night sky. It had passed one o'clock. It wasn't worrying that the plane was late. There might be many reasons for a delay, not least an enemy patrol, but it was still a nervous time for all on the ground patiently waiting. 

Another ten minutes passed and then faintly, somewhere in the distance, a soft mumbling could be heard. Everyone in and around the field stiffened, straining to hear. Slowly the mumbling became louder, more distinctly that of a plane's engines. One man, the radio operator, started communicating a message to the aircraft. A few seconds passed, feeling like an eternity, before the pilot replied with the appropriate code. The operator nodded to the other members of the secret army and they lit up flares to guide the plane in. Stadler looked at the flickering markers outlining the runway. She had her doubts that a plane could land in the field. It was a large field but was it big enough for a plane to land. She did concede that these people knew what they were doing, and had probably done this before, but that did not stop her nerves. 

There would be one attempt at a landing, no more. If the plane had to abort the landing it would return back to its base. No one would risk it twice. This was dangerous enough, if the Germans heard the plane flying around for another approach it would all be over. 

The plane started its approach. The noise of the engine grew louder and the men of the resistance readied their weapons standing guard near the perimeter of the field. One came over to the Immortals and instructed them to get ready. Connor nodded and they walked closer to the makeshift runway. 

"Now the plane's going to land, turn around, then we get on. Okay?" 

"I know the drill." Stadler looked at him, realizing what he'd said. "We?" 

"Heh Heh Heh! I forgot to mention, I'm coming back with you." 

"Really? I am old enough to take care of myself, you know," stated Annika. 

"I know, I was supposed to take a flight out next week for a...briefing, but they moved it up when this was arranged. Saves time." 

Annika nodded, wearing a sarcastic grin. She looked down the strip, the aircraft was close now, and peering into the dimness she could just make out the shape of it. Within a few more seconds it had reached the end of the field and turned about. It taxied slowly to where MacLeod and Annika waited. Stadler smiled, it was a Bristol Beaufighter, an older plane and fairly slow, much less glamorous than its more famous counterpart the Mosquito. But it was lighter and managed with a shorter runway than the heavier nightfighter/bomber. As Stadler started to clamber in the belly of the aircraft she was suddenly glad she would have company on her trip home. 

No sooner had Connor climbed in behind her and signaled to the pilot the all clear, the engines started to roar and it moved off down the flame lit runway gathering speed. 

The two sat in the fuselage of the Beaufighter, staying out of the way of the two aircrew. The plane started to lift off the ground. Suddenly from inside the heavy fighter the passengers heard some shouts and then gunfire. 

The pilot turned around and shouted back. "Nothing to worry about, we'll be out of range in a sec. Just sit back and relax." 

"Easy for him to say," muttered MacLeod. Once again he placed a comforting arm around Annika's shoulder. "You okay?" 

Annika nudged up closer to Connor. She was beginning to take pleasure in his chivalrous actions. Protection she may not need, but caring arms were certainly welcome. "Yeah. Just cold." 

Connor pulled her closer to share his body heat. Eventually they could no longer hear the sounds of the firefight below. 

The pilot turned to speak to them again. "You must be pretty hot property! Don't worry we'll be back in Blighty in no time." 

"How long exactly?" asked Annika. 

"Oh, about an hour. If we don't have any unforeseen problems, Miss," replied the pilot. "This cloak and dagger stuff must be pretty new to you Miss." 

"Sort of." Annika suddenly wondered how she'd adjust to all the patronizing comments and being perceived as a helpless woman after five years of not having to struggle because of her gender. 

"Well, just sit back and enjoy the ride, Motty and I will take care of everything." The pilot referred to the gunner, Lieutenant Motson, sitting in the upper turret behind them. He turned his attention back to flying the plane. 

"Why don't you try and get some sleep?" ventured Connor. 

"Hmm. Maybe." Annika, her head leaning against MacLeod's shoulder, raised her hand and gently stroked the Scotsman's chin. He looked at her quizzically. She put her finger to her lips to hush him. Before returning to his chin, she kissed her finger and placed it onto his lips. 

"But here?" whispered Connor, still not quite believing what Annika had in mind. It wasn't that he was a prude, but still, there were two other people in the very near vicinity and the airplane wasn't exactly spacious or even comfortable. 

Without saying a word she grabbed his coat lapels and moved them both over to a darker corner of the plane. "If we're quiet, they'll never know," she grinned. 

Connor considered this for an instant, then his eyes sparkled mischievously and a small wicked grin spread across his face. He couldn't help but wonder what his kinsman would think of this. He almost allowed his unique laugh to disturb the mood between them. They were lying side by side. Annika lent forward to place a soft kiss on his lips, but the Scot stopped her. He held her head in his strong hands and for a moment just looked at her, allowing his desire to grow. Slowly he started to run one hand through her blonde hair and with the other pulled her closer. Their lips met. 

At the touch of his lips, Annika felt her own desire and lust rising. It was a tremendous feeling, and one she hadn't felt for ages. She hungrily took his tongue into her own mouth. Her hands raced to the buttons onto Connor's jacket, fumbling to get them open. She could barely wait to feel him inside her. 

Connor broke away. "Hey, what's the hurry?" 

Annika gave a slight smile. "It's been a long time." 

"How long?" Connor tilted his head, his sly smile never leaving his face. 

"What year is this again?" joked Annika. To stop him from interrupting further she pulled him to her, kissing him voraciously. The buttons to his coat were now undone, one hand found his belt and unbuckled it. Within moments her hand touched the smooth, sensitive skin of his cock. Connor gasped slightly as she began to gently massage his erection. 

Connor pulled Annika's sweater from her skirt and lifted it above her breasts. He stared for a second at the firm roundness of them, then cupped one and softly flickered his tongue on her erect nipple. He looked up at her as he teasingly bit down. It was Annika's turn to gasp, she threw her head back as he slowly took her nipple fully into his mouth and began to gently suck. It was all she could do not to utter a sound. Connor's hand meandered down to her skirt. Finding the hemline, his fingers then began their sensuous journey up her thigh. As they slowly traveled nearer her center, Annika's motions on his cock became more and more intense. She wanted to take him in her mouth, but that was not possible. And also she wanted him thrusting inside of her. 

His fingers finally finished their agonizingly slow journey. Eventually Connor touched her. He was surprised to find Annika had no panties. His arousal grew even more as he found her already extremely wet. Connor felt her take a sharp breath. He gently stroked her soft wet folds, and slowly plunged his finger into her. 

Again Annika moaned in pleasure. She had long ago ceased kissing Connor's lips; instead she had worked her way down his neck and as much of his shoulder that she could reach without unbuttoning his shirt. Her hand squeezed hard on his balls, causing MacLeod to groan. He glanced at her as she looked up at him, mouthing the words, "Take me now!" Connor blinked in mild surprise at her directness. Helped by his lover, he slid his pants down over his buttocks and then gently entered her. Annika grabbed both cheeks and pushed him harder, forcing him to her. It didn't take long at all, she soon felt her climax rising and within a few more moments she reached her peak as she felt Connor's sweet juices shooting up inside. 

* * *

© 1999   
Please send comments to the author! 

08/01/1999 

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